


Tired

by writelikeitsgoingoutofstyle (twoandahalfslytherins)



Series: unwitting [1]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: F/M, M/M, One of today's lessons: Don't push the word rape on people, april is sexual assault awareness month y'all, drugs: aka the boys try to get high to make Alex feel better, internalized victim blaming/denial of trauma, not always the greatest of ideas, spousal rape, spousal rape within the Hamilton relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-18
Updated: 2016-04-18
Packaged: 2018-06-03 02:43:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6593467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twoandahalfslytherins/pseuds/writelikeitsgoingoutofstyle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's not that Eliza isn't beautiful, she is. She's so beautiful and he loves her so much. </p><p>Alex is just tired. Isn't sure how long he has been. </p><p>All he knows is that as tired as he is, he can't sleep- so he calls the only person he knows will be awake- Hercules Mulligan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tired

It’s not that he doesn’t know how upsetting Eliza finds his late hours, but Alex doesn’t know what to tell her. He’s a first generation immigrant trying his hardest to prove that it was worth it. That being alive is worth it. That there’s a reason he’s managed to make it this far despite his mother’s death and his father abandoning him.

Alex doesn’t like to admit it, but the truth is, part of him is still trying to make the man proud. Part of him still hopes that maybe, maybe if his name gets big enough, that his father will show up. Will claim him. Will want to know who he is. Will want to play a role in his life.

So he keeps writing, keeps working, keeps fighting for a tomorrow that will be worth waking up for.

Eliza hates it when he says things like that, though. Crosses her arms and asks what’s so bad about being her husband. 

Nothing. There’s nothing bad about being her husband but she won’t try and see things from his perspective either. Won’t try and understand why he works so hard. 

It’s not like she didn’t know who he was when they decided to marry. He’s been this way for years. He’d always been excitable, always been passionate- but after John’s death… After John’s death, he hasn’t been able to slow down for anything.

Alex jumps in his seat at the sound of her voice. “Alexander, it’s time to come to bed.”

“I need to finish this article.” It’s the truth, he does.

Unhappy with being ignored, Eliza walks forward, into his study. Closes the laptop he’s been working on and Alex is just thankful she didn’t hit the power button this time. Or pour water on it like she’s threatened before. 

“You need to come to bed, Alexander.” She repeats herself, propped up on his desk and he looks away.

Away from her bare thighs. From the sight of her sitting there in lingerie, it’s clear when she says ‘come to bed’ she doesn’t mean to sleep. But he doesn’t want to do that, not tonight. He’s just spent three hours working on an editorial about child abuse, he couldn’t be less in the mood if he tried.

He just wants to get it all over with.

“Please let me finish my work,” Alex pleads. “I need to turn it in before the boss checks his email in the morning.”

Eliza frowns. “Do you not love me anymore?”

“I love you to the moon and back.” He does, he really does. He loves everything about her. Wants so badly to be what she needs. “But that doesn’t change my deadline.”

“You must find me horrifying. Is that it? Did the birth of Phillip wreck my body so badly that you no longer wish to touch me?”

Phillip is almost two and Alex has touched her plenty of times since then. Has laid her out on the bed and put his mouth to better uses, has traced every part of her body with his tongue. Spent hours massaging her. Making love.

None of this seems to matter.

Every denial is treated as if he’s been refusing her for years.

“Eliza, you know I find you beautiful. I tell you as much every day.”

His wife won’t hear it. “If you thought me beautiful- you’d come to bed.”

Alex rubs at his face. Tries to come up with something that he can say. Doesn’t want to hurt her. Doesn’t want her upset. But she isn’t listening.

Finally, she stands up, crossing her arms over her barely covered breasts. “Fine, I see how it is. I understand that you’re too busy.”

The tone conveys just how much she doesn’t understand. It’s a personal offense that he doesn’t want to sleep with her. It’s a deeper reason. A sign of their marital discontent instead of him just being emotionally exhausted.

Alex is already emotionally exhausted and making his wife even more upset with him isn’t going to make it any easier. He closes his eyes, tries to not think of it as defeat when he can feel her walk behind him. Drape her arms around his shoulder, trailing kisses along his chin as her fingers glide across his chest. There's no point in putting up a fight anymore. He just doesn't have the energy for it. 

Tries not to cringe at her self-satisfied smile. “I knew you could be talked into seeing reason.”

-

When it’s over, when she’s asleep, he redresses. Walks back to his study. Tidies up the last of the details on his article before sending it in. 

Alex knows he should go to sleep. Knows he’s exhausted but every part of him feel wired. Feels wrong. He scratches at his arms as he looks at the clock. It’s almost midnight.

There’s only one person he knows who will be up at this hour. Grabs his cellphone and wallet, shoves his feet in a pair of shoes but doesn’t bother finding a jacket.

Dials the number by heart. “Hey, Herc? Where you partying tonight?”

-

It’s not Herc who pulls up, but Lafayette. Which works because Hercules? Hercules smells like a bottle of scotch. Alex is glad that he had the foresight to get a designated driver. He thanks their DD as he climbs into the back seat of the car. 

The Frenchman's hair is done back in a braid instead of its usual ponytail and Alex focuses on this. Focuses on the purple shine of his shirt, not the nausea in his stomach. On how tight Hercules’ white tank top is, not the words that are bouncing around in his head.

And damn if Hercules hasn’t clocked him the moment he lays eyes on him. “You don’t want to party.”

Alex licks his lips. “Wouldn’t have called you if I didn’t.”

Which is almost true. Hercules is right, Alex has no real interest in going back to whatever club they’ve just left. Doesn’t want the flashing lights or too many people too close for comfort. Doesn’t want to wear someone else’s sweat on his skin.

But it’s better than being alone. Better than staying in that house.

“Do we get drug tested at work, mon ami?” The question feels weird, out of place, but Alex shakes his head. Lafayette smiles. “Then we shall make a party of our own. If you do not mind, Hercules?”

-

Lafayette’s apartment is just how he remembers it. A too fancy high rise, with a modern, minimalist flourish. It’s pretentious as fuck and fits the man so well. 

Alex makes sure to tell him so every time he comes over.

“You are just jealous my rent is more than you make in-” Lafayette waves a hand around as if it doesn’t matter, “say three months?” 

Which is true. Journalists aren’t exactly known for their salaries and Lafayette somehow manages to balance being a fashion designer and working for his parent’s fortune 500 company. Alex can’t complain though because his eccentric friend’s ways are what has Herc leaning against the kitchen counter, rolling up a joint.

Alex is just glad that it’s what Laf meant when he asked about the drugs. He really doesn’t want to try and figure out what his mind might come up with if he was given speed or acid right now. 

“What did you do with the lighter, Laf?” Herc asks, glancing around.

A quick search of his pockets proves that Alex forgot to bring his own, but that’s fine. Lafayette is pulling open a drawer to toss one in Herc’s direction.

It’s only after they’ve all taken a drag that Herc speaks again. “You gonna tell us what has you up in arms?”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” Alex sinks into the couch, snatching the remote before Lafayette can. The last thing he wants is to watch some horror movie because the man thinks that they’re hilarious. 

Lafayette scoffs. “Mon ami, you do not call anymore. You do not text. We have not seen you in months.”

“I’ve been busy,” Alex defends, accepting the joint when it’s passed to him. “Not all of us have sweet gigs with our parents, Laf.”

The dig earns him a shrug. “I have offered to get you a job.”

A job he doesn’t want and one he wouldn’t have been qualified for in the first place. “Two different worlds, Laf. Two different worlds.”

Not that Alex is sure he wants to be in his own world right now. Hates himself for thinking so. He has a beautiful son… Phillip is wonderful, perfect. Eliza is loving and kind.

He barely makes it to the bathroom before he hurls.

Hercules produces a hair tie from one of the drawers and pulls back his hair. And Alex is grateful, he is. Tonight has been bad enough without getting puke in his hair. 

He’s a little less grateful about Hercules raising his eyebrow. “Wanna try us again with that nothing’s wrong crap?”

“Just feeling a bit off, man.” As if the bending over the toilet thing didn’t give that away. 

“I’m way too old for your ‘men don’t talk about shit’ routine, Alex.” It isn’t a nice thing to say, but Hercules softens the blow by rubbing his back.

What’s he supposed to say? Lafayette appears in the doorway behind Hercules, carrying a glass of water and he takes it when it’s passed to him. Stays on his knees near the toilet just in case his stomach revolts again.

“Works just been getting to me.” There he can start there. “And Eliza’s been on me about my hours. And I’m trying. I just…”

Hercules sat down on the floor next to him, and Alex wanted to laugh at how ridiculous they must look. Hercules in his thirties, Alex in his mid-twenties, hanging out on the floor in a too-expensive apartment. But Hercules isn’t sitting next to him because he’s drank too much, too fast. And Hercules is a man on a mission when he wants to be. “You just what?”

“I wish she wanted something I could give.” There. That was an easy way to put it. “If she wanted me to help out more around the house, I could do that. Or flowers. I could bring home flowers. Or write poetry…”

Poetry he could do. If she wanted dinners together, he’d try. Could break for an hour or two, set out candles. Make something nice. Maybe... Maybe they could figure something out. Maybe there's just been a miscommunication. Maybe he can fix this. Or maybe not. Words don't seem to have worked for him so far.

“Perhaps we could be of some assistance?” Lafayette asks. 

Alex gives in to his urge to laugh. It's a broken sound that earns him a concerned look, which he shakes off. “I don’t think she’d be happy if I suggested she fuck you instead.”

Hercules frowns. “You having issues? You could go see a doctor- there’s no need to be ashamed.”

If it was as simple as going and seeing a doctor or getting a pill, Alex would have done so already. “No, everything’s function I just…”

“But Eliza is beautiful? It should be easy, no?” Lafayette still looks confused.

And maybe his friend is right. Alex rests his forehead against the edge of the toilet, trying not to think about how gross that is. How gross he feels. All he wants to do is forget and instead Mr. Sensitivity Training feels the need to poke around.

There’s a yelp, most likely from Hercules flicking Lafayette. “Doesn’t matter how beautiful she is. If the man isn’t up to it- he’s not up to it. Rape is rape, man.”

Rape.

No.

Alex jerks back. “It’s not as serious as all that.”

He expects to have to argue, and he will. Eliza’s not trying to hurt him. She just… has needs. Just gets insecure. Alex gets insecure sometimes too. He can understand that. He just wishes he knew how to reach her.

Hercules looks at him for a long moment, before shaking his head. “Alright. We won’t use that word. Either way, you’re allowed to not… be feeling it one night.”

“When’d you get to be Mr. Tip-Toe?” It’s not nice to insult the man who kept him from getting vomit in his hair, but Alex is tired and the conversation is only putting him more on edge. 

Thankfully Hercules doesn’t take it personally. “Told you- I’m too old for that ‘I’m a man we don’t have feelings’ bullshit. Now come on, let’s get you off the bathroom floor.”

Once Hercules has stood, he extends a hand to help Alex up as well, Lafayette steps back from the doorway to allow them to walk back towards the living room.

“Sorry about harshing your buzz,” Alex says quietly once he’s seated. 

Lafayette shrugs. “There will be other highs to chase, my friend. What is important is that you are well. Do you wish to crash here or shall I drive you back?”

“You could squeeze between us or sleep on the couch if you want.” Hercules follows up the offer.

Alex blinks. “When did…” 

He lets the question drop. Lafayette was right, he’s been out of their lives for too long. The pair exchanges a look before Hercules answers him, “Six month anniversary is coming up fast.” 

Six months. Meaning either it’s been over six months since he’s seen them, or he straight up missed the signs last time he did. It’s exhausting trying to figure out which. 

There’s another beat, both of them looking at him and suddenly Alex realizes why. “Lafayette’s been out since college, I'm not shocked or anything. I’m happy for the two of you- I am. I just… hadn’t realized. And uh…”

Eliza will be angry if he doesn’t come home. If he’s lucky she’ll sleep through the night and he can claim he just left for work early. Right now he’d rather risk her ire than leave Lafayette and Hercules’ apartment. 

He rubs his eyes, suddenly aware of just how tired he is. “You sure you two are prepared to handle my snoring?”

Lafayette smiles, pats his back. “It is the least of which we would do for you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly, there was a point in the beginning to these fic but the point has been taken over by the fact that I spent three years creating survivor resources. I'm probably going to be posting quite a few of these- small fics that involve rape or the after effects. None of them will involve a graphic scene- though it might show the lead up like this.
> 
> So uh.
> 
> Today's commentary- no really. I know sometimes when our friends come to us and say 'I went through XYZ' it's really tempting to go "That's Abuse!" or "That's rape!" and there is absolutely a time and place-  
> but however, for most people? in most situations- your best bet? is not to use those words because we have such strong gut reactions to them. Instead telling them things like- what happened wasn't okay. that they deserved better.
> 
> If someone fights back against a term(in terms of defining something that they themselves went through)? a lot of times they're dealing with cognitive dissonance and denial. We accomplish a lot more with baby steps towards them seeing the situation rather than just going 'Nope this is what it is'.


End file.
